I've gone hunting many times with my dad, but the first time I went, I was six.We were in Junction, Texas, at the Rio Bonito ranch. We'd already done the normal Texas-touristy stuff, like the Alamo and the river walk in San Antonio. The terrain was dry but beautiful, with deep gorges filled with rivers and tangled trees spiraling up to the sky.
The ranch was great with interesting people there hunting, and walls and walls of exotic hunting trophies. My dad was hunting wild boar and aoudad, and I was going to shoot some jackrabbits to get the feel of hunting. Unfortunately there really weren't any jackrabbits to be shot, so the ranch owner said I could shoot a porcupine if we found one because they were a nuisance too.
We found a porcupine in the afternoon-down the trail and up a tree. And since no one was hunting at that time, all the other hunters went down with me. The porcupine was in a tree so my dad set up my gun (which was ironically called a “Chipmunk") against a tree. I was so nervous. The tree was on a ledge and I was afraid of falling off the side. Then-BANG! I shot the porcupine and it fell from the tree.
Now at Rio Bonito, they have a tradition that whenever someone kills an animal they put it on the front rack of the car and pull into the ranch honking, so everyone knows they were successful. In concordance to the tradition, they put my little porcupine on the front rack and pulled into the ranch with the horn honking. Then we set it out on the lawn and took some pictures.
Later we had the porcupine stuffed and Snuggles has lived in my room ever since.My first hunting experience was definitely something I'll never forget.By Emma Y.L. Wong